“Ah, Mr. Thompson, sir, so good to see you – and the other members of the board as well. How are you? I hope I’m not too late. You know how it is, always running out of time.” Carl Kearsley could not have been more out of place among the dark suits and leather briefcases. He wore grease-stained jeans and a dirty lab-coat, clothes better suited for his messy workshop than a corporate board meeting. Even so, he shook every hand as vigorously as he could, hoping to convey a sense of confidence that inwardly he lacked. Mr. Thompson grunted…

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